


Chastity

by emmaliza



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Porn with Feelings, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 11:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30071418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: “He wants you.”"Yes, I had noticed.”Or, Avon's many reasons for not getting laid.
Relationships: Kerr Avon/Cally, Kerr Avon/Del Tarrant, Kerr Avon/Everyone kind of
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	Chastity

**Author's Note:**

> This probably takes place as a prequel to [Passion Play](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24820048), but you don't really need to have read that to understand this.

“What are you going to do about Tarrant?”

Avon was surprised to find Cally lingering on in the flight deck after his and his pilot's latest squabble about nothing. “Does he require something done?” he asked. “I thought we agreed we weren't headed to his latest pirate haunt. He didn't argue particularly strongly for it. His pretentious of leadership are waning by the day.” That mess on Kazar may have been irritating for all involved, but at least Tarrant's guilt seemed to have humbled him a little.

“Avon, don't play dumb,” Cally snapped at him, but then she deliberately softened herself as she approached him, voice dropping to a low murmur. “He wants you.”

Avon smirked. “Yes, I had noticed,” he said. _Do me some credit Cally, I would have to be blind not to notice._ “But I see no reason that means I should intervene. After all, I do not want him, and Tarrant doesn't strike me as the sort of man who would take rejection well.”

Cally glared at him ruefully. _You're lying._

He didn't not know if she meant him to hear that or not. Perhaps she didn't either. Sometimes her thoughts just slipped out when she was particularly annoyed – she could be passive-aggressive like that. “I assure you I'm not,” he frowned, “and even if I was, it would be none of your business.”

That he knew would get the better of Cally, and she looked away, a touch shamefaced. “Now if you excuse me.”

* * *

Avon returned to his roomed with thoughts weighing heavy on his mind. It wasn't as if he saw why Cally should care about his and Tarrant's relationship at all – so long as it didn't affect shipboard politics, why should she give a damn if they murdered each other or were buggering each other senseless?

Of course, he and Tarrant had never been very good at keeping their relationship from affecting the rest of the ship, but Avon considered that Tarrant's responsibility, not his. He was the one incapable of separating personal matters from public ones. On the contrary, Avon had always found himself an exemplar in that regard.

In any case, even if she was sympathetic, Avon doubted Cally would like it much if he took her advice and decided to gratify Tarrant's fantasies. She wouldn't want him to be fucking Tarrant, not when he could be fucking her instead. Oh yes, he would have to have been blind not to notice her feelings as well.

But the problem was, he genuinely did like Cally, as much as he would prefer to have no such attachments. He didn't want to hurt her. And if he started sleeping with her, he _would_ hurt her, sooner or later.

Still, Avon reluctantly saw her point. Tarrant was young, handsome, and infatuated with him. If not for the trifling matter of his obnoxious personality, he would make the perfect casual sex partner. After all, he was unattached – Anna was gone, and she wasn't the type to expect him to spend the rest of his life pining for her (even if, practically speaking, that seemed to be exactly what he was doing).

He would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it on occasion. When Tarrant was particularly insufferable, it was tempting to force him to his knees and fuck his smug, spoiled, pouting mouth hard enough he couldn't talk back anymore. Just to see if it would work.

But Tarrant, juvenile as his feelings may be, clearly cared a lot more about Avon than Avon did about him. While Avon didn't consider himself a man of many scruples, taking advantage of Tarrant's schoolboy crush seemed, not wrong, but rather tacky.

Avon sighed, kneading the heel of his hand against his flaccid cock, sitting against his thigh. Tarrant would have to be settle for being an occasional masturbatory fantasy, nothing more.

If it would reassure him, he wasn't missing out on anything anyone else was getting. Avon didn't see many other options. Among his limited choices, Cally he could not bring himself to touch, for the aforementioned reasons. Dayna was scarcely more than a child, and some vague sense of debt to the late Hal Mellanby stopped Avon from taking advantage of her either. There was always Vila, but he wasn't _desperate_.

(In all honesty, he worried that Vila knew him too well.)

As he worked himself to a proper arousal, he did think of Tarrant. At least, he thought of Tarrant. He imagined pulling him close by tight curls, until he could no longer see his face, listening to his throat glug and choke as he thrusted. He imagined forcing him down on his hands and knees, kissing his broad back, leaving bites and scratches. He imagined claiming him, marking him as he fucked him broken, _you belong here, with me, you're mine, you're mine..._

In his fantasies Tarrant was little more than an object. If they ever slept together, Tarrant would quickly notice that. Avon might not have cared for him, but he couldn't bring himself to be that cruel.

Eventually Avon came in his own palm. His orgasm felt empty, but he was used to that.


End file.
